


Razorblade Romance

by leontina (Leontina)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Rock star Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9110395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina
Summary: Harry gets more than he expects when he sneaks backstage to meet the members of his favourite band, Voldemort.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whitedandelions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitedandelions/gifts).



> This was written as a Secret Santa gift for Whitedandelions!
> 
> Whitedandelions, I really hope you enjoy this! I do have another gift coming for you--my original story ended up being longer than I expected and I didn't have time to finish it, so I wrote you this shorter (but hopefully still enjoyable) story instead. But seeing as I've got an outline and words down for the original story, I thought I may as well finish it :D
> 
> Title comes from the same-named album by HIM (who are referenced in this story a couple of times because I still love them). 
> 
> Warnings for unspecified age difference (Harry is 19 and I imagine Tom to be around 30), and background drug use (not by Tom or Harry).

  
[](http://tinypic.com?ref=zwgjki)   
  


The club was heaving with people, the air thick with the scent of tobacco and sweat. White and blue lights illuminated the otherwise dark dance floor, where the crowd was waiting lively with anticipation, all of them chanting the band’s name like a melody of their own.

_Voldemort. Voldemort. Voldemort._

Harry raised his hands in the air and chanted along with the crowd. He had waited _years_ to see Voldemort live, discovering them when he was fifteen after Fred and George Weasley from sixth form figured out how to hack the school’s wi-fi so that all the boarders could use the internet out of lessons. 

Harry had been watching music videos of _HIM_ and _Avenged Sevenfold_ when Voldemort came up as a recommended channel. One listen to _Death Eaters_ and Harry was hooked on their music ever since. He went from doodling heartagrams in his school books to Voldemort’s logo—a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth—and bought all the merchandise he could afford. 

Four years later and Harry was still as obsessed as ever, and had finally managed to get his hands on tickets to one of their concerts. His parents hadn’t let him go to one before he turned eighteen, and then it took Voldemort a whole year to return to the UK on tour.

But Harry was here now, and he’d never been more excited for anything in his life—his blood felt electric with the force of it.

The crowd stilled for a moment as the lights dimmed, bathing the club in darkness. Then bright white lights shined out so vividly that Harry found himself blinded for a moment, and when the light faded it was to reveal the band on stage.

Harry cheered loudly along with the rest of the crowd as Voldemort immediately started playing their most recent hit, _Knights of Walpurgis_.

There was Bellatrix Lestrange at the back of the stage, her wild black curls falling over her face as she played the drums at an intense speed. Barty Crouch played the guitar at the right hand side of the stage, nodding his head as his fingers danced across the strings, while on the left side of the stage sat Lucius Malfoy at the piano, who Harry had no doubts was a musical prodigy after falling in love with Lucius’s haunting melodies that set Voldemort apart from other bands.

And there, in the centre of the stage, was Harry’s favourite band member and his most favourite singer ever—Tom Riddle. 

Tom was utterly gorgeous, his dark grey eyes piercing even through the blur of the lights. He wore his trademark velvet trench coat over tight-fitting black clothes that clung to his slender body perfectly. Tom’s hands clutched the microphone stand tightly as he sang, swinging it from side to side as he moved on the stage. Everything about Tom was mesmerising, from the raspiness of his voice, to his long elegant fingers, and to his dark chestnut hair that curled perfectly around his ears.

By the time the first song had finished the entire crowd was jumping up and down with delight, arms raised in the air as they banged their heads to the rhythm of the music. 

“Hello, London!” Tom called out, smiling widely when the crowd roared in response. “We’re excited to be back in our home town tonight. How are you all doing tonight?”

Harry cheered along with the rest of the crowd.

“Here’s a new one for you,” Tom responded. “You’ll be the first ones to hear it. It’s called _The Basilisk_.”

By the time the concert was over, Harry’s voice was hoarse, his arms and his feet ached, and he’d never felt so energised or electric before. He’d sung along to all the songs and danced with the crowd, and hadn’t taken his eyes off Tom all night. There were a few times that Harry swore Tom had been looking directly at him, but Harry didn’t know if that had just been wishful thinking on his part.

As Harry battled his way to the exit of the club, his heart began hammering for a different reason.

He had waited a long time to see Voldemort live, and he didn’t know when he’d ever get chance again in the near future—being a uni student meant his money was far too limited to allow him to travel the world and follow the band’s tour. But though he would not be able to see Voldemort live again until they returned to London, they were in London now and Harry reasoned that it was the perfect chance to meet the band members. 

Of course, they didn’t sell VIP tickets and they had bouncers to stop fans like Harry from breaking in to meet them, but Harry had inherited great creativity from his father and godfather. 

The back entrance to the club was down a seedy little alley which stank of piss and seemed eerily silent compared to the bustling road just in front of it. The light was limited but from the road Harry could just make out the forms of two figures stood with their arms crossed over their chests in front of the back door to the club.

Harry nodded at the two men next to him. He didn’t know their names, but he had found them both clearly drunk in front of one of the nearby bars and had offered them fifty pounds to stage a fight for him. The men had readily agreed, and at Harry’s signal they both tumbled into the alley in a blur of fists. 

As expected, as the drunks got further down the alley the bouncers at the door quickly stepped in to break up the fight, and Harry quickly and stealthily made his way past them to sneak into the club before he was spotted. As soon as found himself back in the comfortable warmth of the club he let out a sigh of relief; he’d made it. Now to find the band.

The back of the club thankfully didn’t seem to be a maze; just a couple of corridors with a handful of doors to choose from between them. Harry set off down the corridor on the right, pausing by each door to listen for noise.

He was almost at the end of the corridor, near the door which had the most promising noise coming from it, when a hand clapped his shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing, kid?” came a gruff voice; Harry hadn’t even heard anyone behind him.

“I, er, work here,” Harry said quickly, spinning around.

He held back a gulp at the sight of the man in front of him. He must have been double the size of Harry, his arms bulging with muscles beneath his shirt and leading to large hands which were covered in hair and scars.

“Nice try,” the man snarled. “Come on, punk; you’re no more special than the hundreds of other fans dying to suck the band’s cock.”

He grabbed Harry’s arm and made to pull him away.

“No, please let me stay,” Harry protested loudly, digging his high-tops into the tatty carpeted floor in an attempt to stay in place. “I want to meet them for just a second.”

“Now listen here-” the man started, but he fell silent as the door at the end of the corridor opened and Lucius Malfoy stuck his head through.

“What the hell is going on, Greyback?” Lucius demanded to know.

Harry’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of Lucius sprawled against the doorway with the top buttons of his shirt opened, and behind him the rest of the band looking out at Harry and the bouncer. Tom’s gaze stood out the most to Harry, and he shivered at the intensity in those grey eyes.

“Just another fan trying to sneak in,” Greyback barked back. “I’ll get rid of him.”

“No need for that, Fenrir,” Tom spoke up. “If he’s clever enough to get past the Lestrange brothers then I think he deserves to meet us. Let him in.”

“Fine,” Greyback spat bitterly, pushing Harry’s arm away from him violently. “Lemme just check him for weapons first; arms out, kid.”

Harry didn’t have much of a choice as the man named Greyback manhandled him once more, forcing Harry’s arms outwards as he was patted down by rough hands. Harry squirmed as Greyback paid particular attention to his arse, giving it a squeeze.

“If you didn’t want me touching you, you shouldn’t have sneaked in,” Greyback hissed in Harry’s ear before finally letting him go. “He’s clean.”

“What are you like, Greyback?” Lucius said affectionately. “Kid just wanted to meet us; that’s all. Come on,” he added to Harry. “Come inside.”

Lucius stepped aside to let Harry into the room, which had been set up with several chairs and tables, and was illuminated with the artificial brightness of strings of fairy lights. Beer bottles and used make up kits littered the floor and the shelves, and a large mirror in the centre of the wall had a crudely drawn smiley face scrawled on it in red lipstick.

Lucius pushed past Harry to kneel on the floor in front of a small table beside Bellatrix and Barty. Barty looked up at Harry, the pupils of his eyes incredibly wide. 

“Do you want a hit?” Barty asked with a wide smile, drawing Harry’s attention for the first time to the lines of white powder that were set up on the table. 

“Oh, er, no, thank you,” Harry said quickly, inwardly wincing at his choice of words. Who turned down drugs like it had been their grandmother offering? 

Barty shrugged and immediately turned his attention back to the coke on the table. 

Harry frowned, until he felt a hand tug at his wrist. 

“I’d leave them to it,” Tom said, drawing Harry’s focus to him. “Come take a seat with me.”

Harry was pleased to note that Tom’s pupils seemed entirely normal, and even more pleased that Tom was patting the empty patch of his own chair. Harry readily took the seat, trying not to feel too exciting about basically sitting in Tom’s lap.

Harry had already been questioning his sexuality when he first discovered Voldemort, but seeing Tom Riddle for the first time certainly cemented in Harry’s mind that he was bisexual. It wasn’t just that Tom was incredibly attractive, with his high cheekbones, intense grey eyes, and strong jaw; but Tom always came across as so charismatic and charming in his interviews. Plus Tom was openly pansexual himself and was an activist for the LGBT+ community along with the rest of the band. 

“So what’s your name?” Tom asked, giving Harry a dazzling smile.

Harry bit his lip as studied the curve of Tom’s mouth. “I’m Harry. I’m sorry to sneak in but I just really love the band; I’ve wanted to meet you for _ever_.”

Tom smirked. “We hear that a lot. Not many can get past our bouncers though, and even fewer past Fenrir; you’re a lucky one. Are you still at school, Harry?”

“Second year at uni,” Harry answered, pausing to swallow as Tom’s hand fell on Harry’s knee. “I do media and communication over at Goldsmiths.”

“Interesting,” Tom murmured, giving Harry’s knee a squeeze. “We’ve been saying how we need a new PR manager, actually; haven’t we?” Barty grunted in response, and Tom sneered, “I’m sure you understand why we need to keep certain things quiet and sell our good points, yes?”

Harry nodded furiously. “Definitely. And don’t worry, I won’t say anything about…”

He trailed off, watching as Bellatrix snorted another line of cocaine.

“Ignore them,” Tom said lazily, inching his hand higher up Harry’s leg to rest on his thigh. He lowered his head towards Harry, his breath ghosting over Harry’s ear as he murmured, “how about I show you a private tour of our equipment room?”

Harry nodded, so breathless he doubted he could form words even if he wanted to. Harry wasn’t a groupie, and certainly hadn’t wanted to meet the band just so he could have sex with one of them, but God he was turned on something chronic right now. He was pretty sure that Tom was hitting on him, and Harry wasn’t one for one-night-stands but if Tom offered, well, Harry wasn’t going to turn down the star of his fantasies for the last several years. 

Tom stood and offered his hand, which Harry eagerly took. The others didn’t even spare them a glance as they left, all of them clearly too high to notice. 

Tom led him to the room next door, and Harry barely got chance to catch a glimpse of several instruments propped up against large black boxes before he found himself pinned against the wall by Tom. 

Tom’s hands were warm on Harry’s chest, his fingers splayed wide as he leant in close to Harry and lowered his head. 

“Have you ever been fucked by a rock star?” Tom growled, and Harry shook his head; he was achingly hard now, and he could feel Tom’s own length pressed rock-solid against Harry’s stomach. “Do you want to be?”

Harry responded by pulling Tom into a bruising kiss, his hands wrapping around the back of Tom’s neck to draw him in closer. Tom bit down on Harry’s lip which made him moan in pleasure, and Tom took the opportunity to thrust his tongue into Harry’s mouth and kiss him even more deeply. 

If Harry had felt good before, it was nothing to how he felt now. Listening to Voldemort’s music live had been one thing, but getting to experience _this_ with Tom felt like being in a glorious dream.

“Take off your clothes and turn around,” Tom commanded, his fingers already sliding underneath the hem on Harry’s band hoodie. The tips of Tom’s fingers felt like ice on Harry’s skin, and he shivered as Tom trailed them across the sensitive skin by his hip bones. 

Not caring if he looked sexy or not, Harry shed his clothes quickly, struggling only slightly with his red high-tops. He felt somewhat exposed feeling Tom’s eyes on him, especially with Tom himself still entirely clothed which somehow seemed even more attractive than if Tom had been nude. 

Once he was done, Harry turned and spread himself out against the wall, closing his eyes when he felt Tom’s hands pressing against his arse. 

Tom draped his body over Harry’s, his mouth pressing against the junction of Harry’s neck as his hands spread Harry’s arse apart. Cool leather pressed intimately against him as Tom rubbed his still covered erection between Harry’s cheeks, and even through the material Harry could tell that Tom was _hung_. 

Tom pulled back for a moment, and after some brief shuffling Harry heard a bottle being uncapped before a slick finger rubbed at his hole before sliding inside him. Harry moaned at the sensation, biting his lip as Tom swiftly added a second finger. 

“God, that’s good,” Harry murmured, pressing back against the feeling as Tom deftly moved his fingers inside Harry. 

Harry felt Tom smirk against his skin, and the smirk only deepened when Harry moaned loudly after Tom’s fingers found his prostate. 

“You haven’t seen a thing yet,” Tom promised lowly, sliding a third finger into Harry.

Harry winced a little at the uncomfortable stretch, but he soon forgot the discomfort as Tom began finger-fucking him in earnest, leaving Harry a breathless and sated mess—and that was just from fingers. 

Without warning Tom pulled his fingers out of Harry and pulled him backwards, Harry’s back colliding with Tom’s body as an arm wound tightly against Harry’s front and dropped downwards to stroke his cock. Harry threw his head back in pleasure, and Tom’s free hand immediately moved to Harry’s neck, his fingers digging in just enough to be domineering but not painful. 

“I want you to ride me,” Tom murmured, pressing his thumb against Harry’s slit. “Will you do that for me, darling?”

That word was the undoing of Harry, and he would have come there and then if it hadn’t been for Tom’s hand squeezing the base of his cock.

“Not until I’m inside you, Harry,” Tom teased, giving Harry’s neck one last bite before he released Harry entirely and stepped away from him. 

Harry turned to watch as Tom took a seat on a hard-backed chair and unbuttoned the fly of his leather trousers. After parting the material Tom’s erection stood proudly on display, as long and thick as Harry had imagined it to be. 

Tom kept his eyes trained on Harry as he reached into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out a condom, tearing the packet open with his teeth before he tossed the packaging aside. Harry licked his lips hungrily as Tom rolled the condom down his cock, slicking it up with lube once it was in place. 

Then, for a fleeting moment, Harry felt like he was in a dream. Just an hour ago Tom had been on stage and Harry had been in the crowd listening to him sing and now—now he was about to have sex with Tom.

Best night ever.

“Now or never, darling,” Tom spoke up, drawing Harry out of his reverie. 

With a deep breath, Harry closed the distance between them and hovered over Tom’s lap, lowering himself onto Tom’s thick erection. Tom’s hands grasped Harry’s hips to guide him, and they both moaned as Tom filled him. 

Harry felt so full and stretched, and it was divine.

He allowed himself a moment to get used to the sensation before he began moving, fucking himself on Tom’s cock. The velvet of Tom’s trench coat was soft beneath Harry’s hands as he gripped Tom’s shoulders for leverage, drawing their bodies close together as they both became lost in one another.

Harry angled himself so that Tom’s cock hit his prostate every time he sank down, and as soon as one of Tom’s hands closed around Harry’s erection it didn’t take long for him to come, riding out his orgasm with breathless moans as he released over Tom’s stomach. Tom came soon afterwards, his whole body tensing as he jerked upwards and shuddered before relaxing with satisfaction.

After he caught his breath, Harry slid off Tom’s cock and lap, and picked up his clothes to redress while Tom removed the condom and straightened himself out. 

Having sex with a celebrity had been easy, but now they were finished Harry didn’t know quite what to do. He’d originally planned on asking Tom and the others for a photograph together and an autograph, but that seemed like an odd request to ask now. 

Tom seemed to have no qualms about post-sex interactions, however, because he confidently stood and strode over to Harry, catching Harry’s wrist between his fingers.

“Thanks for the good fuck,” Tom said softly, his lips curling upwards in a small smile. “We’re playing in Cardiff in a couple of nights. I’ll get you tickets; you can stay in my hotel room afterwards, if you’d like.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat; not just at Tom offering to share a hotel room with him, but at seeing Voldemort play live again.

“Yes, thank you,” Harry answered with an eager grin. “I’d love that.”

“And bring your portfolio with you,” Tom added. “If you’re interested I’d be happy to consider you for our new PR manager.”

“Me?” Harry repeated faintly, feeling once again like he was in a dream. “Why me?”

Tom smiled darkly once more. “There’s something about you that I like; that doesn’t happen very often.” His thumb rubbed circles on Harry’s skin. “Give me your number and I’ll text you the details.”

Harry decided then that if this was a dream, he had no interest in waking up.


End file.
